


Words Unwritten

by IsurvivedReichenbach221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU Verse, Bottom Dean, M/M, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsurvivedReichenbach221B/pseuds/IsurvivedReichenbach221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Castiel is a famous book writer and Meg becomes a stalker where he feels threatened. His publisher, Gabriel, encourages Cas to get a bodyguard and hires Dean. Cas has a book deadline coming up that can't be stopped but with the intensity of Meg everywhere Dean can only do so much. Rated M for later chapters. Warning: there will be nothing between Meg and Cas except forced kissing, suggestive touching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hydiest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydiest/gifts).



The silence surrounded him. Outside the window to his left, if he closed his eyes and held still, he could hear the wind rustling in the trees. His lips split open with a sigh as his hands spread about the paper on the desk. This was his ritual, and it was a must before he would write this morning.

Around two hours later, after having pelted out a few pages from his book, he rose from his chair and wandered his house. Going through his cupboards, words and phrases and the characters of his novel running through his head, he found he was out of a few essential foods. With a frown, he jotted them down on a notepad and went back to writing for another two hours.

Shortly after lunch, his stomach empty but his mind barely noticing it, he gathered up his things and stood in front of his door. Outside there were distractions from his work but they were necessary, that's what he was told. "To be a writer, Cas baby, you have to experience the world." That's what his publisher had said when he'd moved into the countryside. He'd wanted to be alone, but he had been adamant about moving, therefore his manager had allowed it so long as Cas agree that he'd go out and do his own shopping and wouldn't become a total recluse.

Closing the door behind him, Cas wandered into the gravel driveway with the sound of crunching rocks under his shoes. He had the list of items he needed in his front pocket and his wallet in the back. Nothing else he needed except to start the car. Staring at the wheel, he turned the key and then checked his mirrors, aligning his seat, and then pulling the car into a 180 degree turn. Driving up the long drive, trees full of green leaves and whistling wind, he pulled onto the road that led into the town twenty minutes away.

Entering the store after parking and practically jogging across the street, Cas gathered a small container to hold his items in and went in search of the groceries he would need. Standing in line, he didn't make eye contact with the two people in front of him. They made no effort to look at him, however, which made him happy. In his mind, he was thinking about the next two hours of writing he would need to accomplish today, and the six each day for the following week to have his next weekend off. If he wanted to keep his deadline on the book and have his vacation, that is.

With a sigh, he pushed his things onto the counter and looked at the cashier who was a young woman, hair dyed more than one color and practically chopped to pieces. He didn't mind the look of her, he was all for looking how you felt on the outside, but he thought she was may-hap wrong for the store with her vibrant need to be seen. Keeping his mouth shut about the topic, for there were hundreds of reasons she could be at this job and still need to show herself, he offered a half smile as he pulled out his wallet and handed over a fifty dollar bill.

He was just wrapping his hands in the plastic handles of the bags when he heard the feet. Curiously, he turned around and saw a woman rushing towards him. This was exactly what he didn't want. There was only time for maybe half a step back before she skid to a halt in front of him, a book clasped between her hands, knuckles practically white with her excitement.

"Castiel! You have to sign my book!" Her voice was a whisper-yell, dipped in a Southern drawl, hissing into the previously quiet air. If he'd had to guess, she was maybe in her early teens. The purple sundress draped over her body showed she probably didn't want for curves, but also was fairly modest compared to some things he'd seen. Her hair, flowing locks of brown, cascaded over her shoulders and lay in curls over her shoulders, heaving with her chest as if she'd run a mile.

Reaching a tentative hand out, he grabbed the book and borrowed a pen from the cashier, who seemed put out at the scene while she was trying to relax before another customer came. Signing his scribble on the inside of the book, and adding "With Love," he handed the two objects back to their owners and offered a smile, taking his things in hand.

"Thank you so much!" She exclaimed, bending at the knees from excitement. He nodded, wanting nothing more than to be back home and cook his dinner so he could finish the day with writing.

Breathing easier once he was in the car, he turned it on and started the short drive back home. The light of the sun was hidden by the tops of the trees even though it wasn't really that late. He'd been woken up early with the need to write, as was the life of a writer, and had followed his muse to the papers to fill up lines.

Making a simple meal of spaghetti, he ate with care and then carefully cleaned up after himself. He knew if he started writing with a messy kitchen, he may never clean it. Once he sat down to write, he quickly forgot the encounter with the fan at the store.

~

One week later, Castiel got off the phone with his publisher and confirmed that they were still on time for the due date of the book, practically going to be early if he kept up this rate. He was in need of two days' rest. The way his mind was going, however, he would probably only make it half a day before he started writing again.

Deeply sighing, he lied down on the couch and stared up at his ceiling, watching the fan turn circles as he rested an arm over the top of his head. The motion of the fan rolled his eyes slowly around in his skull.

He wasn't aware he'd woken up until, with a jolt he jumped and fell off the couch. The thud of his body was loud, but nothing compared to the dull ache it left throughout his whole body. What had woken him? With sleep-fuzzy brain, he rose up on hands and knees, grasping the top of the coffee table with one hand and pushing up. The nose came again, this time loud and clear.

"Coming!" He called, scrambling to his feet the moment he realized there was someone at the door. "Coming!" Castiel called again, practically taking the stairs up to the entrance way in one leap, throwing himself against the wall next to the door, peaking out. A man in mail uniform stood outside and he wondered what time it was. They only sent mailmen out in the early morning.

Rubbing an eye, he opened the door. "Can I help you?" He asked curiously, tasting the cotton in his mouth and rolling his tongue around.

"There was a note on our office door we suggest you have." The post man leveled his blue eyes on the writer, handing over an envelope. With both eyebrows raised high, Castiel took it and looked at the name. On the front, in fancy and very feminine writing sat his name.

"Thank you." He closed the door as the mailman headed away. This was odd, getting actual mail to his house even though it didn't have his address on it. They normally knocked on his door to deliver mail, he was always home and there was no point in stuffing it through the tiny slot on the door anyway. The town was small, so they probably figured just bringing the note to Castiel was appropriate but there was an off feeling.

Wandering to his desk, he called up his manager, spotting that it was just after seven in the morning and the man would, of course, be awake.

"Hey, Gabe, I have a problem."

"Did you dump on your papers! God's sake, Cas, you can't push the deadline back--"

"No!" He interrupted the man with a shout, and the other fell silent. "I got a letter in the mail. There's no return sender and it gives me the creeps."

"What's the note say?"

"I didn't open it yet. I was going to ask you what to do about it."

There was a pause. "Do I look like your mother?"

With roll to his eyes and a deep, exasperated sigh he put Gabe on speaker and tore the letter open.

"It's hand written."

"From a fan?" The sound of laughter was starting to fill up the phone.

"I think so." He stared at it, letting the silence fill the space, mulling over the words for a moment. "Dammit, Gabe, you need to come read this."

"Why, is it a threat?" The humor in his voice dropped instantly.

"No, it's really creepy."

"Tell me what creeps you out, dammit."

"Okay, this line. It's a short letter, but this line in particular: 'you write so beautifully under pressure, the word love.'"

There was silence in the air, thick and heavy. There was the sound of Gabe shifting on the other side of the phone and Cas waited, wondering what his publisher would advise him to do. They weren't really following the guidelines of fellow workers, for they constantly talked about things outside of work. They were fabulously close friends, close enough to be brothers, even. Suddenly, Gabe cleared his throat.

"Okay, you said no return address?"

"There is nothing but my name, in the same writing on the front." He breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to be taken a bit serious, at least.

"Okay. It was delivered in the mail?"

"The mailman said it was taped to their office door." More silence, unfortunately.

"How many books do you sign the word 'love' into?" There was a tiny chuckle in Gabe's voice and Cas pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gabe couldn't see it, but his brows knit angrily.

"I sign the same thing every time. I am serious about this, it's strange, Gabe."

"There's nothing we can do about a letter, Cas. Keep an eye on it, make sure nothing else creepy happens. Keep tabs on it, tell me about it if anything else happens."

Castiel agreed, hanging up with a hushed good-bye and spent the days of his vacation taking long hot showers and toying with the idea of his book taking a showing turn. In the end, he decided to keep with the original plan. By the end of his vacation, he was much more relaxed and settled by the time he went back to writing on Monday and had nearly forgotten the ordeal.  
When the post arrived in the early morning, he grabbed it with a nod and a thank you, half of a muffin in one hand.

"Another one of those notes." The mailman said, stopping Cas in his happy tracks and staring, wide-eyed. He swallowed the food he had in his mouth, almost painfully, and nodded his understanding.

When the door was closed, he wandered to the kitchen where he set his muffin down and the two pieces of mail. One was a letter of thanks for the donations he'd given to a charity six months ago. The other was an envelope, the exact same as last time.

Instead of calling Gabe like last time, he opened up the letter and read it over carefully. It was not the same in detail, but it was the same in length. A short paragraph written in fany, feminine handwriting. It spoke of meeting him, again, one day and exchanging words once more. He put the letter down and stared at it. Wondering what to do, he poured himself some juice and leaned over the counter, staring at the letter.

Finally, figuring it was nothing to worry about, yet, he set the letter with the other and went about his daily activities.

~

Weeks later, Cas called Gabe up once more. After the initial hello's of the two friends who'd not spoken since Cas had started getting letters, Cas told him they hadn't stopped.

"It's about once a week, so far," Cas said it quietly. "They're always about talking to me in person. Meeting me."

"Do you think they have any idea where you live?" The man was definitely taking Castiel more seriously this time.

"No, I don't. I assume they don't, because all the letters are just my name, taped to the post office door." He took a drink of his water, making a face. He really didn't want problems with people. He didn't want people in his life like this.

"Okay. Okay, I'll be over this afternoon, we'll look at the letters and if anything changes, you call me right away."

They agreed to this plan and it helped calm Cas' nerves enough for him to finish writing up the week so he could take another small vacation. He needed to rest his brain sometimes. Taking small, two-day vacations from writing was actually Gabriel's idea. He said it would help with the juices of creativity, letting them muddle for a while, even if they wanted to tear out and run free all over the paper.

 

The day before his vacation, however, the rules tilted. When the mail was delivered, the post man said nothing was out of the ordinary so Cas didn't pay much attention to the letter than had his name, address, but no send-back letter on it. Opening it, he took one look at the handwritten letter and, without reading it, turned the envelope around and stared.

Gabe answered on the second ring.

"They know."

"What?" He didn't seem at all concerned, more miffed there was no hello.

"The letter this time, today. It's addressed to my home." Silence filled the air and then a shuffling.

"Okay, okay. Deep breaths. Nothing has been done to you, or your belongings there's no reason to get worked up. Do you want me to come over? What does the letter say?"  
"I didn't read it..." He pulled the letter up to his face, noting the length was just a simple sentence. "God... Gabe, this one's worse."

"What's it say?"

"'Since you didn't want to meet me, I'm coming to you.' That's all it says!" He looked over his shoulder, putting the letter down and taking in quick, sharp breaths.

"That's not good, but not bad, either, okay? Maybe they're just messing with you. Hey? I got a guy, that can come over and stay with you for the day? Or a few days, if you don't mind."

"You've got a guy?" He sounded skeptical but at the same time, relieved. Feeling silly, he ran a thumb over his brow. "Maybe... maybe it's not serious. They could have gotten my address at any time from anywhere."

"Cas, I won't send him if you don't think it's a good idea, but I encourage it."

"No, no." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm fine. Really."

Their conversation lasted a few more minutes, the topic having been changed back to his book and the deadline approaching. When Cas hung up, he felt rather silly, getting worked up over nothing. He cleared off his bills, setting them in their right place and added this new addition to the slowly growing pile that was on his counter he never moved.

He spent the next two days in a rather twitchy bliss. Yes, he thought about the letter often but no, it didn't scare him as much as it initially had. He threw Gab a text or two a day, letting him know he was okay. Cas went into town and canoed on the lake Sunday, basking in the heat of the sun as he sat in the middle of the lake, the sound of birds and far-off chatter from people filling the air.

Rowing back to shore, he took his sweet time. The sun was setting and he marveled in the wonderful world he lived in.

Returning home, he inhaled the smell of the woods in which he lived, stepping from his car. Fumbling with his keys, it took him a minute to realize something was very wrong. When he reached his door, he saw white in the corner of his eye and he looked up to neat, feminine handwriting taped to his door. Stiff as a board, he stared at it until he could work his lungs again.

Turning in a circle, he scanned the whole area and found he couldn't see a single thing out of place. Pulling the note from the door with a small snapping noise, he unlocked the door and slipped inside. Breathing heavily he locked the door behind him and rushed to remove his shoes, go down the four steps out of the entryway and back into the kitchen where he stumbled to the counter and tossed the letter down.

"Hello, Castiel. I must have just missed you. I look forward to seeing you next time I stop by."

It was plain, like the other letters, only this time it seemed more personal. More threatening and Cas couldn't convince himself, not even an hour later, that he was overreacting. Picking up his phone, he cleared his throat and found himself shaking. Going to the cabinet, he took a bottle of wine and uncorked it. Staring, not drinking, he set it on the counter and made the call.

"Hello, Gabe."

"Cas... this is your vacation still, isn't it?" The words were confused, mixed with concern. There was the sound of a chair being pushed back and the hush of people in the background.

"Yes, technically. You mentioned you had a guy?"

"Yeah, do you need him? Are you okay?"

"There was a note taped to my door when I got back."

"Damn. Okay. Was it from them?" Cas took a calming breath at the sound of Gabe's voice, the thought floating in his head that he was overreacting again.

"Yeah, the same handwriting. I just compared them." He pulled the pile of other notes over, and did just that. These letters now, were bigger but the similarities were, in essence, 100%.  
"What's it say?" There was commotion in the background, Gabe said something off the phone that Cas thought sounded like, "Get him on the phone." But he couldn't be sure, and didn't care to push his nose into business that wasn't his. He told his manager what the letter said, that the handwriting was bigger. "Having second thoughts again?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sending him anyway."


	2. Watchful Eyes

A strong, solid knock sounded through Castiel's house. Pursing his lips, he moved from the bed upstairs down to the kitchen via the staircase in the study. He eyed the door way from the sliver of view he got from the kitchen and took in a deep breath. Gabe had mentioned the guy was going to be coming in today. They'd talked briefly on the phone about it earlier in the morning and, having finished a lunch of leftover tuna salad not too long ago, it was about the time Gabe had said the man would show.

Feeling slightly nervous, and then silly about his nerves, he went up the short amount of stairs and peered through the peephole. The man had his back turned, a leather jacket stretched over his broad shoulders and he was tall, but not too tall. The dark hair, just long enough to have a style, made Cas smirk for unknown reasons. The keyhole distorted most things but he was sure the guy had jeans on that fit with the right amount of snug.

Opening the door, he cleared his throat. The guy turned around, not a smile on his face but it wasn't an unpleasant look. More thoughtful than anything as he looked Cas up and down, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He raised a hand in greeting, eyes going over Cas's shoulder to survey the small area he stood in. The man looked at everything, which was amazing for the job he was in.

"My name's Dean Winchester." The voice, deep and thick as honey drifted between them and Cas smiled. The mans green eyes turned to Cas.

"Castiel. Though you probably knew that." He stepped back, opening the door much wider and Dean took the offer, stepping in with a thud from each footfall. The boots he wore were a soft brown that had the legs of his pants pulled over the top comfortably. Cas had been right in his mind: the jeans hugged in just the right places. The hair, as Dean slipped past him into his home, had a look of messy handling as if there were more things on Dean's plate than his hair.

"I did. Gabe told me about you." He looked down the short stairs into the foyer and then up the longer flight of stairs that led to the upstairs. "On or off?" His eyes turned with the top half of his body as he faced Cas, a hardness in them that was centered by a softness.

Cas stared into the eyes for a moment, brain processing. Finally, after one of Dean's eyebrows slowly crept upwards, Cas cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other.

"What?"

"On or off? My shoes?" Dean pointed and Cas looked down.

"Oh, off, please."

Dean nodded and leaned against the wall. With quick, precise movements he undid the laces of his boots and, with two solid thuds, dropped them side by side on the small rug where Cas' own shoes lay.

"Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Novak?" Dean straightened, leveling his stare at Cas once again.

He put a thumb to his lip, nibbling on the tip of it, before tossing his hand back down. It was a habit of his, while he thought, and Gabe had told him to stop that. Sometimes, he'd forget he was doing it until his thumb bled and he couldn't use bloody papers for his writing. Once he damned himself in his mind over nibbling his thumb, he tried to think of what he needed to know. Cas realized he had no idea what Dean's purpose was, truly.

"Gabe didn't tell me much of anything as to what you were doing here." He felt that was a good starter for the conversation. Dean nodded knowingly.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do then. Since Gabe knows why he hired me. I'm going to start by familiarizing myself with your home. The ins and outs, where you keep everything stored. Then I'm going to do the same thing to your yard and try with your surrounding woods. Then I'm going to tail you around." He paused for a breath, seemingly waiting for Cas to show he understood so far.

"What do you mean by tail me around?"

"I have to keep an eye on you. It's what bodyguards do."

Cas set his jaw and took a shallow step back. The word rang through his head quiet clear but he was uncertain he'd heard it right. He had to have.

"I don't need a bodyguard."

The face that Dean made was more than half irritated and just a little bit of a look you'd give to an unruly child. "I'm not here to discuss what you need or don't need, Mr. Novak. Gabriel didn't hire me to listen to you, he hired me to take care of you the best way I can. He gave me a list of things you don't like, and I will keep myself to them the best I can. It's easier--"

"Does that mean you have to 'Mr. Novak' me?" Dean stared at Cas, who'd just interrupted him, for a few moments before he shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, Castiel." Dean said if flat, face following suit. "It's easier to do it my way.He told me nothing big, mind you. Just that you don't like being touched." Those green eyes looked Cas over again before making his way upstairs.

Having removed the heavy boots, Dean moved silently throughout the house. Cas stood in the kitchen, drinking from the wine glass. He'd still not finished the wine bottle he'd opened when his nerves had taken a heavy shot. He wasn't much for alcoholic beverages but it took the edge off if he needed it. Cas tried the hardest he could to hear where the other man was but had absolutely no luck until  Dean came back into the kitchen, the soft bedding of his feet the only sound he made as he crossed the linoleum.

Without a word, Dean went up the stairs after searching the kitchen and inspecting the window. He didn't even glance at Cas who was almost done with his first glass of wine. Cas watched as the man put his boots back on and went outside. If he was really quiet, he could hear the crunch of boots as the man made his way around the house, inspecting everything. With a shrug, he went up the stairs with his glass and decided to try writing. No point in making Gabe stressed over this deadline.

An hour passed and Cas had a surprisingly large amount of work done. He'd heard not a peep from Dean since the man had wordlessly marched outside. Which was just as well since there were more places in the yard to hide or enter the area from. Not to mention the wooded yard. Sticking his thumb into his mouth, he chewed a few moments before realizing and throwing his own hand down.

With a start, he heard the door close downstairs and he stood, walking in his socks across the carpeted work room to lean over and peer down the stairs. He could just make out Dean leaning against the wall, removing his boots with a plain look on his face. The hair on his head was a bit more tousled than earlier and there looked to be a bit of dirt on the mans shoulder that wasn't there before.  
He shrugged and walked back to his desk where he sat and read through the pages he'd written the last hour, only decided to pitch almost half and start the whole section over again. His hair stuck out at all ends as he ran his fingers through it almost continuously, trying to think while he knew Dean was wandering around the house. He felt safer, yes, but also silly.

Pulling out his phone, Cas texted Gabe.

 _Will he be here all the time?_ -Cas

 _He's paid 24/7_ -G

Cas stared at that and sighed. Feeling like he owed the man something, he went to his closet where his extra sheets and such were. Carrying them down the back stairs, he went to the living room where the couch sat and found Dean in the kitchen, leaning over the counter. Cas stilled, arms full, his eyes attracted to the back end of the other man like a magnet.

The roundness of Dean's butt was exquisite and Cas couldn't help himself as he gently put the armful onto the couch, eyes glued. The writer, in his mind, came up with many words to describe the way the man leaned over the counter, trying to see what he could of the front door from his viewpoint. He was doing his job, Cas knew that, but he was doing it the most distracting way possible. Dean's legs were strained, bowed out more than when he stood up, and Cas licked his lips, staring.

When Dean pushed off the counter and turned, Cas had about half a second to turn away and look as if he'd been busy with the bed sheets. He glanced up, noticing Dean arch a brow as he slowly walked over, feet nearly silent on the carpet of the living room.

"What are you doing?" His voice was deep, just as before, and Cas blinked and waited half a second.

"The couch folds out to a bed. I use it sometimes when I wish to avoid my bedroom..." He scratched the back of his head. "I'll do it up for you if you want."

"Okay... but you never asked if I was staying."

"Gabe said..." He looked up at Dean, looking from one eye to the other, trying to determine what the man was saying, only to find a smirk. He'd been fibbed on.

"Thank you, though, for getting the sheets." Dean reached down, pulling one of the thicker blankets to himself and rubbed it between his hands. "Nice and soft."

"Down feathers. They're my favorite." Cas took a step back from the man, able to practically feel the heat roll off of him.

Dean pulled the stuff from the couch and, with Cas' help, got the bed pulled out. He threw the stuff on the bed and Cas helped him stretch it out, readying it for sleep. Dean used the pillows from the couch to stuff at the head, explaining he didn't need much anyway. Wordlessly, Cas went to the kitchen around dinnertime and started pulling things together but then realized he had no idea what the other liked.

"Uh..." he turned, found Dean staring and paused a moment.

"I am okay with anything, but I do like casseroles."

Nodding, Cas bent down and pulled out the strainer. He supposed he could make that Tator Tot Casserole he'd been meaning to do for days. For the next hour or so, he readied the food and set it to cooking. Once it was done, he set the table for two and busied himself and getting two plates set out.

"For a writer, you do homely activities well." Dean remarked, grabbing a bottled water and sitting down at the table. Cas made a noise as he plopped into his chair.

"I like it clean and I can't work if I'm hungry... there are days I go without eating, I know. But if I leave something half way through, I'll forget to finish it." Cas blew on a forkful while Dean nodded, picking up his own fork.

They ate in peace and Dean helped clean up. Over the next few days, while Castiel went back to work, Dean surveyed the entire lay of the land and the inside of the house at least six times a day. After the first day, they got into their own type of groove where they complimented each others' silence. Dean was never in the house while Castiel wrote, at least he didn't think so.

When Cas wrote, he escaped to the book completely and Dean probably could have waved a rotten animal in his face without him noticing. They went about their own business and Cas let Dean know he could watch TV if he wanted, take naps, eat whatever. Dean took him up on the offers, except for the naps. Since there was nothing to protect against, he relaxed most of the day. Cas was keeping well in time with his book deadline, and growing very fond of having Dean around.

Cas almost got used to eating with a second person, the body of Dean simply there and relaxing. The quiet between them wasn't strained or nervous like it was with most people and soon, Cas woke up feeling excited to cook for a second body. Reality slapped him hard when the letter arrived in the mail. Dean took it from Cas' slightly shaky hands and opened it. Reading over the contents, the bodyguard gave it to Cas and watched for reactions.

After reading the small note, Cas put it down on the counter and took in a deep, shaky sigh. The words had been much thicker in writing, the hand writing them angrier. The words were mad, he could tell.

"They're basically the same letters, all the ones before," Dean started, voice soft. Cas nodded, bracing himself against the counter. He didn't want this to be real. "Why is this one so hostile?"

"I assume they know you're here." His bright, blue eyes locked with Deans and the other man nodded. There was no other explanation and it meant that Dean had missed something important as he'd scouted. "I have to tell Gabe.."

"I will call him, report it. Go and relax upstairs." Dean nodded towards the stairs and Cas, frowning, did as he was told. Upstairs, he took a long, hot shower and afterwards he went downstairs to see on the phone call. Dean told him it was done and that Gabe was a little put out over the violence of the letter.

"He said maybe now you'll feel less ridiculous at having me here." Dean said, watching Cas as he soaked in the news. With a nod, Cas accepted what he'd been told with a tight pinch to his lips.

"I understand." Cas went to the fridge and poured himself some wine. Dean watched, eyebrows shot upwards. "I have beer, too, but it's probably old." Shaking his head, Dean declined but did watch as Cas downed half the glass before coming back up for air.


	3. Not Welcome

There was a storm that rolled in the next weekend after Dean was witness to the first hostile letter. Cas had been antsy and somewhat irritable the whole time and he was sure Dean noticed, for the man spent a large amount of time outside. With the storm, however, Dean found himself standing in the entryway, nearly soaked through.

"Where were you?" Cas asked, handing over a second towel, the first of which Dean had used to wrap his jacket in. The second towel went straight to his head, shifting it back and forth until a large amount of the water was gone and he stopped dripping, at least from his hair.

Cas had gotten a laundry basket, one of the round ones, and urged Dean to throw everything into it. He assured the man that he'd do laundry that night, get it done with even though Dean had over a week's worth of clothing already in the bag stuffed beside the couch bed.

"About ten feet deep in the woods by the road." Dean said, his voice gruff. He'd gotten caught as the downpour had started. Cas had told him to stay close but Dean had told him rain never killed anyone.

Now, shivering like a sick puppy, Dean stood nearly soaked through. Cas, having lived with the man for over a week now, smiled and chuckled as Dean took his button-up shirt off, tossing it into the hamper and rubbing his chest and back dry. The smile on Cas' face fell and he swallowed hard, looking away.

He didn't have to give permission for Dean to use the shower, so there were no more words spoken between the two. Cas moved to the kitchen where he prepared for the diner later in the evening. he needed his hands busy on something that didn't allow for much free thought and for him, that was pretty hard to come by. As Dean went to the upstairs bathroom that had a shower rather than just a bath, Cas started to chew on the end of his thumb and this time, didn't notice the first few seconds.

By the time Dean wandered into the kitchen, Cas had made diner at least three hours early. Narrowing his eyes, he watched Cas drink from a glass of wine. The writer watched, out of the corner of his eyes, as Dean leaned, resting his arms across each other on the counter. The slope of the mans' eyebrows drew into an almost humored line. Under that stare, Cas shifted almost uncomfortably.

There hadn't been another note since the last one and Cas' nerves were frazzled in wait even though Dean and Gabe both assured him that he was safe. In the back of Cas' mind, however, he always felt that he was one step behind and knew that it was true. There was only so much he could do without knowing a single thing about the person sending the messages but Dean swore up and down that they would deal with it before it got bad. Hopefully, though, the bodyguard was right.

"Do you have something on your mind?" Dean asked into the silence between them that normally was no problem but Cas seemed slightly more uncomfortable with it this afternoon. Dean seemed to have picked up on this tidbit.

"Nothing." He shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip. His bright eyes roamed to Dean, the man staring straight at him with his green, knowing eyes. In many ways, Cas was comfortable with Dean in the house. There were times they were at each others' throats like when Cas tapped his fork against the plate and Dean left the table with his jaw set in a straight line. Or when Dean listened to the TV on loud because he was in another room and Cas was trying to write and could hear everything. The last week, however, neither had really gotten at each other and Cas was sure it was because Dean was paying extra attention to him. This had gotten Cas to be less comfortable with their silence, as well.

Seeming to accept that as an answer, Dean said nothing else but continued to stare at the writer until he was done with his wine. Washing the glass as well as the dishes he'd used to prep the meal, Cas busied himself just before the oven went off, signaling that the food was done. He'd made a small pan of lasagna, with it being about two hours early.

Pulling a face, he removed the pan from the oven and stared at it as he turned the oven off and set the pan on the burners. Dean was still leaning against the counter, watching. Technically, it was the mans job to watch, but Cas could feel the eyes burrowing into his back. The sound of rain filled the house between their silence and the writer took a deep breath, leaving the room and heading to his study where he was going to go over a few pages he'd written earlier.

~

It was two days later that Dean sat in the passenger seat of Cas' car as they went to town. They used the same route as they normally did about once a week. As Cas grabbed his things, Dean nonchalantly watched the passerby's and kept tabs on some people that seemed suspicious. Cas noticed Dean eyeballing a certain woman and he paused, Dean practically running into him.

"You know, I'm a writer. There's a chance she is just excited about seeing me." He said under his breath, staring Dean down. The man turned to face Cas, eyes bright. He said nothing, but one eyebrow twitched and Cas let it go. He understood the mans job, even if he didn't agree that such a woman could be a problem.

Looking at the woman once more, he paused and frowned. She looked familiar and when she noticed him looking, her face lit up and she waved enthusiastically. He nodded at her, not showing any sign that he was similarly enthused, but she jumped off her stool and walked over. Her long, brown hair swayed as she walked and eventually came up to him.

"Castiel, how are you?" Her voice was thick and he found himself recognizing it almost immediately. Dean stiffened, taking a step back when the woman came up, his eyes glued on her. Cas raised a hand, but knew the man wouldn't back down, and was right as Dean flat out ignored the hand.

"I'm well. I don't know your name." Blunt and straight to the point normally worked for him and her smile widened head cocking a fraction to the side and making her curly locks shift.

"No, you don't. My name's Meg. It's so wonderful to see you again." She put her hand out and he stared at it. He hated being touched. Dean had mentioned he knew this, but he wasn't paid to keep Cas in a tight bubble, just safe.

"I don't shake..." Cas smoothed his hands down his front, running a hand over one of the buttons to his button-up. Her eyes never drifted from his, at least from what he could see when he looked up and she was seemingly gauging his reaction. Her hand dropped down, smile dropping a fraction. Her eyes turned to stare at Dean, who stared back.

"That's okay, I understand." Her voice clipped the words, but it still felt like thick molasses on his ears. "I have to go, though. It was wonderful seeing you. Maybe we can meet again sometime?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went back to the table. She picked up her drink and wrapper from the Subway she clearly had eaten from that was attached to the side of the bakery.  
Cas didn't watch her go, but rather turned to Dean who continued to watch her. After a few heartbeats, he looked over to Cas, his eyes narrowed and his mouth a straight line.

"Are you going to survive?" Cas asked sarcastically, thinking the man was overreacting about the woman who was the picture of innocent.

"I'll be fine. Are you done here? I'd like to get back to the house." Seeing that the other man was honestly upset about what had just happened, Cas nodded that he was done and they went to check out. Without another word shared, and the silence heavy, at least to Cas, they arrived back to his home.

Thinking the rest of the night was shot, and that diner would be rather full of the same silence, Cas left the car, putting his feet down on the ground and closing the door behind him. Turning around, he took in a sharp breath as he saw Dean reaching out, grabbing around his arm and pulling him close. The contact shot through him like lightning, even though it was through his shirt. He felt the fingers pull on his skin and his breath whooshed out of him, the word "danger" screaming in his head.

Fighting the urge to duck, he allowed himself to be shoved back into the car. Dean said nothing short of a hushed whisper for Cas to stay put. Nodding, Cas closed the door and huddled in the chair, watching Dean pull out a gun and rush to the door that stood ajar. Cas finally clicked the pieces together and grew extremely freaked out. His heart beat hammered as he pushed the locking button.  
It seemed to take a very long time for Dean to come back outside, his face twisted into a frown. The gun was put away and he looked back and forth, eyes scanning the part of the yard he could see as he took long strides back to the car. Yanking the door open, he grabbed Cas and dragged him into the house.

"I'll get the groceries. The house is safe." He closed the door behind himself and Cas stood, startled, in the middle of his entryway all of a sudden. Licking his lips, he quickly took off his shoes and went down to the kitchen. The groceries would need to be put away. Dean came in, almost right after he leaned against the counter, hauling in the groceries. Cas watched without a word as he put the bags on the counter. Dean's green eyes scanned over the writer before he turned and rushed out the door.

Cas assumed the man was going to check the yard so he got about the business and put his groceries away. Opening the fridge, he found a note taped to the inside and he backpeddled away from it, heat rising to his face as he felt the entrance into his home like a punch to the gut. The air knocked from him and he nearly stumbled over his own feet as he turned and bolted up the steps. Pausing, hand on the door to the outside, he remembered Dean going through the house and having not found anyway. Just because he hadn't looked in the fridge didn't mean someone was in the cupboards.

Attempting to breath evenly, trying to force the adrenaline to go down, he took the steps into the kitchen and went to the fridge he'd left open. Pulling the note off of the shelf, he noticed his hand shaking. Without looking at the writing, he put away the groceries and cleared off the counter from the bags. He washed his hands and took in a few more breaths before he finally turned to the note. On the front was his name in large, deep writing just like the last one.

He knew he should wait for Dean, but there was no telling how long the man would be outside, checking each nook and crevice in the yard and surrounding forested area. Taking a deep, steadying breath he opened the letter and read it. Like all the others, it was short. Like the last one, it was angry. The words didn't connect right in his head, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Not sure how to take it, he put the letter back down and got a glass of wine. He'd be out of the stuff if he kept this up.

Dean didn't come back into the house until Cas was on his second glass, which was highly unusual for the writer. There were dirt stains on Dean's knees but he didn't seem to notice as he removed his boots and coat, hanging it up before going down to the kitchen and eyeing Cas as if trying to determine what the look on the other mans' face was from. He eyed the glass, too as if he knew, somehow, it wasn't the first.

"Are you going to be okay?" The words were soft, a deep rumble in Dean's chest as he came closer but, like with everything else, his eyes were drawn to the white letter atop the counter. He paused mid-step and swallowed. "Where?"

"It was in the fridge." Dean pursed his lips, walking to it and opening it up. The sentences weren't even full, but there was more anger in this one than the first. Less sense was made between the words and Dean didn't fully understand what was trying to be said.

"It doesn't make sense to me."

"Me either." Taking a deep breath, he downed the rest of his glass and then turned to the fridge to get another. Dean watched silently, saying nothing and Cas noticed when he turned back around, glass halfway to his lips. "They're angry though."

Dean narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as Cas took a sip. The man was obviously on a bender of some sort, unable to handle the nerves. Cas wouldn't disagree with Dean, were he questioned, but Dean never asked. Instead, he moved to the living room and plopped onto the bed.

Cas tried to cook a meal halfway to the wind, but ended up getting milk on the floor. Dean sighed and came in, cleaning up after the stumbling man and took over cooking once he'd sat Cas on the bed couch. The writer stayed put, not even watching the movie, but rather lying flat on his back, feet on the floor, and staring at the ceiling. He focused on breathing and eventually passed out in a nap.

The sky was darkening by the time Cas startled awake. His mind was fuzzy, but not nearly as fuzzy as it had been earlier. He glanced around, seeing Dean in the kitchen leaning over the stove as he cooked something in a pan. Cas took a deep breath, smelling something like stir fry, and his stomach rumbled. With a simple look, Dean noticed the other was awake and motioned him over. Together, they finished cooking the stir fry and sat for the meal. Neither mentioned anything about Cas loosing his nerves. The small chatter circled around the fact that Dean actually cooked really good.

"I would have cooked earlier but you seemed to like it a lot." Dean said softly and Cas chuckled, agreeing that it helped but allowing Dean the availability to cook if he wanted. Relaxed at this point, both cleaned up the kitchen before turned back to the note and deciding that Dean should make the call to Gabe.

Excusing himself, Dean went to do just that outside while he made a round. Cas leaned against the counter, chewing on the tip of his thumb. Suddenly, he decided to go to the living room and indulge in a rare urge to watch some TV. In his mind, he pondered the type of thing he could possibly watch, for the choices were many.

Just as he entered the living room, the crashing of glass shattered the air and he dropped to his knees, letting out a yelp and covering his head. He felt nothing hit him, but heard the sound of gravel under rushing shoes. There was a curse and Cas stood and spun to face the window that had shattered in the living room. Glass scattered over the floor and there was a rather large rock laying on the floor amid-st the glass. He didn't dare go close in the bare feet, but he leaned to see if he could see out the window, for the sound off running had faded, but he couldn't see into the dark. Just as he leaned, he heard a second pair, much heavier, take off and he assumed Dean was giving chase.

Heart pounding, he back peddled until he hit the kitchen counter. He spun, rushing to pull his shoes on and then, once that was done, he got a pair of gloves and bag. Moving over to the window that had shattered, he started picking up the glass. He would have to vacuum. Once all the really big pieces were gathered, he went up and took shards from the open window, still unable to see much of anything. Once all that was done, he focused on the really tiny pieces until he was just fed up with it.

Going to grab the vacuum, he breathed out a sigh as he threw what he'd gathered away. His body was humming with fear and the need to run, but he assumed he wouldn't get very far, and he had no idea where he'd run to. Pulling his gloves off, he rolled the vacuum out and started dragging it into the living room. Before he could do anything else, the front door practically slammed open and Dean rushed down the stairs.

Cas turned, eyes wide, as he watched Dean come closer, face determined.

"Are you okay?" Dean reached out, grabbing Cas' shoulder and the lightning shot through his body again. Mouth ajar, he looked from the hand to Dean's face as the man leaned over, staring at the gaping window and seeing the large rock. "Cas!" He shook the writer with a jerk.

Castiel jerked forward, his body moving of its own accord as he pushed up against Dean's body, fingers going up and grabbing Dean's face. Without thinking, Cas closed the gap between then as he felt the hand on his arm shift, fingers sliding against the fabric so he could keep hold. Their lips collided and Cas swallowed Dean's grunt. The whole day crashed onto the writers' shoulders and he pushed Dean until they were up against the counter.

Dean grunted as his back connected with the solid object and Cas pulled back, eyes huge and his hands pulling away from the others' face. Taking a step back, he seemed to realize what he had done. With speed, Dean seemed to notice the look and decipher what it meant. Cas found himself spinning, arms wrapped around his middle. His own back pressed against the counter and his surprised noise was swallowed as Dean flattened a hand between the others' shoulder blades, pulling him back into a kiss that was heated with a pant from the bodyguard.

Their bodies came alight as Dean's free hand tugged at the back of Cas' shirt, hinting at going upwards and he shoved his hands up, allowing the shirt off and away. Dean's fingers made solid contact with hot skin, the tips skimming over before taking solid hold and pulling Cas flush against himself. Cas moaned at the touch, body leaning into it. Their lips broke apart as he bent his head down and latched lips onto Dean's neck, scraping his teeth gently. Dean bucked, shoving Cas into the counter and the man grunted, hands shooting up the back of Dean's shirt.

As he was pulling on Dean's shirt, the sound of a phone started to go off and for a moment, Cas thought maybe it was a text. He kept his hands placed just as they were, grasping at the muscled back to which he clawed at. Dean took a half step forward, shoving their bodies together all the more closer. Cas realized, somewhere in his head, that the sound wasn't going away.

Pulling his mouth from Dean's neck, he looked around. Gazing up to Dean's eyes, he saw his own passion and need mirrored in those green hues. Breathing heavily, he pulled Dean's phone from the man's pocket that was practically glued to his hip, and handed it to the other. Dean kept eye contact as he answered but the moment he realized who it was, he took a step back and turned from Cas to take the call.

"Yeah, I took care of it, Gabe." The sound from the receiver continued as Dean wandered over to the entryway apparently to take off his shoes. Cas watched, a curious expression on his face, his breathing still coming in heavy but the mood had been snapped away. His body, hot and hard, shivered in the sudden cool air in front of him. Pushing from the counter, he tried calming himself before going back to cleaning up the broken window with the vacuum.


	4. Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took longer than expected to finish this. Sorry :3

Cas spent a large amount of time the next week holed up in his study, writing. Dean and Cas didn't talk about the kiss, barely even acknowledge that anything had happened between them. Dean had gone with the other the next day and got a replacement window to which the bodyguard installed shortly after returning home. No letter or violence happened in the whole week, but Gabe did call Cas shortly after he'd talked to Dean over the phone.

Having told his publisher dozens of times that he was fine, just startled and frazzled, Castiel was finally left alone about the topic. In his mind, he was more than thankful that Dean was around because he felt more threatened than any other time in his life. Then again, he's never had a mysterious stranger breaking out his windows and sending letters.

It was getting late in the day and Cas had spent the whole day upstairs, not even coming down for meals. Dean had come up around eight in the morning and noon to check up on him but he didn't say anything about the man coming down for food, or anything short of the blunt words. This was probably the third day he'd gone without eating and Cas was honestly surprised Dean hadn't tried to force him to go down.

With a sigh, the writer looked over his shoulder at the clock on the opposite wall and rubbed a hand over his face. His stomach had been growling almost solidly for near ten minutes. It was about time for dinner, too, and he could smell something cheesy cooking. With another sigh, he force himself to stop nibbling on his thumb and rose from his chair. Padding down the hall in his socks and sleep pants, he wandered down the stairs to see Dean pulling out a pan from the oven and setting it on the stove. The man moved away from it, giving a view of four chicken breasts smothered in cheese. He put the gloves away and pulled out a plate on the counter--wait, there were two plates.

Cas stood at the top of the stairs in the entryway, watching Dean move around the kitchen as if he had no idea that the writer stood there. He smiled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as Dean scooped up a breast and put it on a plate. He did the same for the second plate and pulled out silverware for himself, wandering with one plate to the table and sitting down. From that spot, if he looked up, he could see Cas.

Before Dean spotted him, Cas spun quietly out of view, the socks on the smooth surface of the linoleum making it very easy. He smiled wide to himself, feeling a tightening in his stomach at the thought that Dean had readied a plate for him. Then his face fell. The man must have done that every other meal, too, and here Cas was holed up upstairs without a word. Dean wasn't getting paid to look after him in this way.

Deciding to listen to his stomach, Castiel stepped down the stairs, getting a look from Dean as the man cut his own breast up. The writer grabbed silverware, the readied plate, and went to sit beside Dean. The amount of times they'd been so close after the kiss was less than the fingers on one hand and Cas suddenly felt like everything was a bit better, maybe.

"The chicken's good." He remarked and Dean smiled down at his plate. His eyes slipped upward to look at Cas for a moment before cutting another piece off and bowing to put it in his mouth.

"The recipe is from my mother."

~

To Cas, it seemed as if all was back to normal. In a way it was normal between them, but the next letter that was received was in the mail was anything but normal. They were having breakfast, chatting over the use of spices in spaghetti and making plans to try a few different ones, when the knock on the door came. The broken window had passed Cas' mind mostly over the last two weeks so he stood to go to the door. Dean, it being his job to keep an eye out, leaned back and watched the other cross the kitchen into the entryway. He couldn't see the opening of the door where he was, but he heard Cas say thank you and shut it.

Coming down the steps, he had a handful of letters in his hand, his eyes curios until he paused, mid step and stomped a foot down before he fell off balance. Dean was up and over to him and pulled the letter from his fingers with care. After opening it, he licked his lips and handed it back.

_"You are mine."_

Cas took in a sharp breath and tossed the pile to the counter. Dean watched him from afar, gauging his reaction. Inside, the writer was a blank slate as words scattered inside his mind. He saw the letters that had been written to him so far, the rock breaking his window. Everything. Now this. It was a claim on him, rather immediate and solid. Much stronger than anything they've dealt with before. He didn't know how to deal with it.

"Gabe needs to know right away."

"It's a threat."

"Is it?" Cas turned curious eyes to Dean who had pursed lips. The man nodded.

"It is. This is official stalker behavior. Gabriel will want to have you moved." Cas' eyes widened and he shook his head. Dean took a step forward, holding a hand out for he had lived with him long enough to know when Cas was about to argue. The action didn't stop the writer, however, who stomped a foot in defiance.

"I won't leave my home!"

"This is a threat!" He picked up the paper and waved it in the space between them. "You have to..."

"No!" Cas ripped the paper from Dean's hands and tossed it so hard on the counter it flew over the top and slipped to the floor on the other side. Both men watched, wordlessly. Cas looked to Dean from the corner of his eye and the bodyguard huffed, hands clenched at his sides.

"I'm going to call Gabe and if he says to remove you, you're coming with me!" He pulled on his phone and left the room, going all the way outside before the phone even started ringing.

Cas was flustered, and more so put out. He didn't want to leave his home, even if he had a stalker. He wasn't easily picked up and put somewhere...-

Before he got much farther in that thought, the door opened and Dean stomped in, kicking his boots off to the side without a second glance back. His face was set in a determined line and Cas could almost feel those hands grabbing him and forcing him outside. Those hands packing his things in an overnight bag and forcing him to leave. If Gabe had heard the anger and the determination in Dean's voice, it was likely he'd take the side of the bodyguard over his writer.

"Get your stuff." Dean's voice was gruff, no nonsense and the writer jumped, nodding and rushing up the stairs. He threw together a small bag of toiletries and bathroom supplies. In a fairly larger bag, he put in two days' worth of clothes. Halfway in, Dean stomped up the steps, head shaking as he saw the two sets and he pulled clothes from the drawers and tossed them on the bed.

"We're not staying away that long."

"You're not coming back here."

"Dean!"

"It's my job to keep you safe, not to argue with you." Cas stilled and shut his mouth tight, this being the first time Dean had used that tone of voice so directly at him. The other man stood, full height and stiff not even a foot away. The angry tone slipped into an almost whisper. "I will hog tie you in the back of the car if I have to."

There was something about that sentence that Cas took completely seriously. With a nod he grabbed another four pairs of clothes and stuffed them as tight as he could into the bag. Going to the bathroom, he switched his travel toothpaste with his regular one and claimed he was ready to go. After Dean was satisfied that Cas was now taking him so seriously, he carried the bags to the car as he made the writer get ready.

"Bring the letters."

"Letters? Why?"

"In case we need them." Dean held out his hand for the small pile and Castiel, face twisted into a confused frown, handed them over.

~

The hotel wasn't rundown as Cas imagined it to be. Honestly, he'd avoided going mostly because he was safe at home. There had been no point for him to bring all of his writing so all he had was his laptop and a few sheets of paper he had written over the last few days. Stressed, he doubted he'd be writing any but he really needed to get going on the chapters.

There was hot breakfast in the morning and a small kitchen in the large suite that had been booked. There was no reason for them to leave the area and for the next two days, Cas didn't. Dean left for food a few times and always came back with something to distract Cas from his already delayed work. Not much of a distraction, since he could barely wrap his head around the novel with the thought that he couldn't fully relax.

Dean didn't say much and barely slept while he worked hard to keep the man somewhat interested in staying at the hotel. This plan, however, wasn't working all that great. Cas was irate and easily agitated the longer they stayed and Dean found the man incapable of even a light sleep. Late in the second day, he sat on the edge of one of the beds, watching the man pace back and forth going on the second hour now, his thumb red and sore.

In his mind, he was trying hard to focus on the writing but the strangeness around him kept that from happening. Taking in deep breath after deep breath, he damn near ran into Dean as the man stood up. Two hands grabbed his upper arms and stopped him mid-step. Looking up, hand dropping from his mouth, Cas saw Dean's tired eyes burrow into him.

"I swear to God, I'm not getting you any more coffee. Stop. Moving." He moved Cas to the side and pushed him down onto the bed. Cas went willingly, albeit with a confused expression. He'd been so lost he'd nearly forgot Dean was watching him. How long had he been pacing?

"Dean..."

"Shut up." He stayed standing, tapping a knuckle against his chin before he went to the window, looking out. Over his should, he peered at Cas who had, for the first time in two days, stood still longer than a minute. Curiously, he stared at Dean. "I thought I saw a light..."

Cas didn't try so hard to do his work the rest of the evening, mostly due to being forced from his revere and realizing how tired he was. Falling asleep early, Cas awoke early. He rolled over and looked to the other bed, finding Dean fast asleep on top of the covers in nothing but his sleep pants.

Rising up on his elbows, he looked at the curve of the other mans back and watched the rise and fall of his chest, noting his shoulder barely moved in his sleep. There were scars aplenty, too, that took up a large chunk of his back and the desire to know where they had come from rose in Castiel. He had to remember, rather strictly, that the man was working for Gabe and the moment this whole thing blew over, Dean would be gone and his life would be back to normal. Blaming the desire to know about the scars easily on the fact that he was a writer, he liked facts and he liked stories, he rose up from his bed and went for a shower.

By the time he was out, Dean was awake and dressed. Both men quietly went to the breakfast and Cas too a deep breath when he sat down. His plate was more than full with delectable things, having eaten fast food most of the last two days. Dean sat down with a plate of pancakes and stole a strawberry from Cas' plate. The two ate their own food after that, Dean receiving a glare and a raised fork in threat from the strawberry taking.

"I'll be in the room." Dean whispered, rising slowly and wandering back even before Cas was done. With a snicker, Cas watched him go, licking berry juice from the corner of his lip. Sighing, he finished off his plate and picked up his cup of juice. He swirled the orange liquid around before taking a drink.

His eyes weren't looking for anything in particular, but he could have jumped out of his skin when he saw a face coming towards him out of the half-filled breakfast room. He situated in his seat, setting his glass down as his brain tried desperately to come up with an excuse as to why she seemed so particularly interested in him. Rising from the table, forgetting all about his juice, he took a step to the side and her eyes followed.

Her hair, in curly red locks, jumped as she walked and in moments, his heart beat was practically in rhythm, making it seem like he could hear her footsteps. She walked up to him, her face perfectly calm and he was ready to run as fast and as far as he could, when her arm rose and in her fingers was a soft white folded paper. The world around him tilted as she came to a stop, pushing the paper into his chest. Numb hands came up to grasp at the paper and her smooth skin brushed over his as her hand came back.

As suddenly as she'd appeared, she turned and left. This time, he watched her leave through the front doors without looking back at all. Face twisted into something between fear and anger, he turned and slowly, carefully walked back to the hotel room. He slipped the key card through the slot and closed the door behind him, leaning against it.

He didn't want to open the letter now or never. The woman that had given to him, he had though, was the stalker and his imminent doom was near. But it seems that wasn't the case. At least, not for now. The stalker could be anyone but he doesn't remember seeing that woman before and her face hadn't shown any sign of recognition, more that she was indifferent. She could have been paid off to do it, simple enough.

Dean leaned over the side of the wall, having been sitting on the bed, and eyed him curiously. Sensing the distress, he stood and walked over to him. The letter was still pressed between his hands and his chest, and Dean gently twined his fingers from it. The man slowly opened the paper and frowned at the contents.

"Okay... before we handle this." Dean rose his eyes from the paper to look at Castiel, worry creasing his brow. "Tell me how you found the letter."

"This redhead came up to me and gave it over. I don't know. She didn't say anything. She left the hotel right afterwards."

"Have you ever seen her before? What was her face like?"

"No and I don't know. Normal? She had no expression, I know that. She was..." He waved his hands in the air almost helplessly. "I thought she was going to attack me but all she did was push the letter at me and leave." He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"We have to get another hotel." Dean said the words softly, knowing that Cas was more than a little bit stunned.

Shaking his head all the more, Cas took the letter from Dean's fingers and stared at it. In neat, calm writing the same as the first bunch of letters, lay three simple words. Meaningless to most people but to him, it stung in more ways than one. There was no anger or hard lines, nothing but their soft curves.

_"I found you."_

He didn't know if it was a stunned silence that came from him, or if he was terrified at this new letter. Or maybe it was actual shock that went through his system at the woman coming at him. He'd written a lot about adrenaline but hadn't really felt much of it in years. Living a solitary life did that to a man. Either way, all he found himself capable of doing at this moment was staring at the words. Eventually, however, he looked away from the curved writing to the floor and then to his things.

Without putting up a fight, Cas packed what little he'd used and had yet to put away. He made a fuss with himself over the dirty clothes he hadn't been able to wash, the whole affair being overheard by Dean who chuckled. Gabe was called and he sounded worried over the lack of anything that Cas was showing but Dean told him it was simple shell shock. Dean also promised Castiel, in a slow and even tone, that the next place he'll make sure they can wash their clothes.

"It's a woman." The bodyguard said into the silence as they paused a moment before heading out the door of their suite. Cas blinked up at him, still in a dazed state.

"Who is?"

"Your stalker. The handwriting is too feminine. Plus, there was another woman involved. I'd bet it's a woman stalking you." He turned slowly,realizing he would be getting no answer from Cas as that information sunk in, and the both walked out the door.


	5. Tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write, hope you like it as much as I do :)

The next hotel was the next town over, and it accommodated a washer and dryer but it was expensive. Neither man cared as they washed their clothes together, just like at the house. They chatted about things small talk was made out of, Dean apparently trying to calm Cas down. Yet, Cas seemed perfectly normal inside his own mind. The behavior that Dean seemed to be worried about was simply a calm demeanor. Inside, there was really nothing more to be had.

Reality had slapped him in the face when his fear had coursed adrenaline through his body he had been stunned and thoroughly worked over. This whole time, this whole month Cas had been second guessing himself because it just didn't seem like a problem. Now that he'd literally come face to face with the situation, the fear that could be ignited within him, he was more compliant. Dean didn't seem to have understood this change and Cas wasn't in the mood to talk about his feelings. Probably never would. The man would eventually get it.

Being aware of the problem and knowing it was big enough to have a bodyguard, now, didn't make it any easier to not feel trapped. If anything, it made the feelings worse. He was in a small room, not his normal house, and the beds smelled different and the food wasn't home-cooked. The first day was worse than the whole stay at the first hotel, for he didn't pace but sat there, chewing on his thumb until it was red and sore.

Dean ripped the hand from his mouth eventually and cursed up a storm telling him that moping wouldn't do any good and that Gabe told him to keep writing. If he could. Which, as Castiel found out rather quickly, he couldn't. And that drove him more up the wall than anything.

"You should probably go to sleep." Dean's voice was suddenly loud in the quiet and Cas jerked his head up, realizing he dozed off in the chair. He turned and looked over his shoulder at Dean who was staring at him, book in his hands. Cas pinched his lips and looked back at his work and realized he'd fallen asleep over a page he'd been trying to write over the entire day. Maybe he had a dozen sentences.

"Yeah," sighing, he did push from the desk and turn to face Dean, watching him turn back to his book. There was no way he could force him to go to sleep, merely try to keep him calm. Cas wasn't a child, however, and understood it was probably best for him to go to sleep.

Crawling between the sheets after deleting what little he had written-he hated the way it looked, he was out before he could think twice. His dreams were mostly about the book he tried writing, the characters talking to him trying to urge him forward. The characters were far off and distant near the end.

Dean shook him awake and Cas, startled, shot up in bed, the blanket falling from him. "No, stop!" Dean tried calling to him but Cas jerked out of the bed, falling to the floor with a thud and a groan. Crawling up, he glared at Dean who, in any other situation would have had a smirk on his face, if not laughing outright. The seriousness on the bodyguard's face wiped the glower from Cas' and he rose to his feet, concerned.

"What is it... what time is it?" He rubbed at an eye while Dean backed up and sat on the other bed. He glanced at the clock on the end table between the two beds and Cas' eyes followed. Nearly five in the morning. He'd been asleep about four hours so far.

Pulling his feet up to the bed and sitting with them crossed, he waited for Dean to explain, otherwise he'd just get back under the covers. It was too early to deal with this...

"I heard someone at the door about half hour ago." The words were hushed and clipped, the tone in Dean's voice back to that of his working habit. Cas went from half asleep to wide-awake because the man wouldn't have woken him up for just a simple ruckus while they stayed in a hotel filled with strangers that could have stumbled against their door for any given reason. Due to the time of morning, possibly drunk reasons.

"Okay."

"By the time I got to the door, the person was gone but there was a note on the door." He pulled a letter off the side table that Cas had completely overlooked given his state. Watching with an intensity he never felt this early before in his life, Cas watched Dean unfold it and turn it around. One word stuck out against the paper. It wasn't written like before, but small letters taken from possibly newspapers were glued to the paper. Next to the word was a smiley face using two plain dots and a line that looked like the writer had pushed down fairly hard to make a smile.

_"TAG"_

The word was more simple than any of the others, but it scared him the most. He rubbed his hands on his sleep pants and turned his eyes up to Dean who had that hard expression on his face.  
"She's playing a game with me." Cas whispered and Dean nodded.

"Us running didn't do any good."

"Does that mean we'll have to go farther than just a town?"

"Are you willing to jump states?" Dean inquired with a curved eyebrow rising up his forehead. Cas wasn't, and he'd put up a harder fight that way. Dean must have seen that in his face for he allowed a small smirk on his lips. "Didn't think so. I'll call Gabe, see what he wants to do." He went off to make the call quiet in the corner of the room and Cas walked towards the bathroom, running his hands through his hair. He tried to ignore Dean's hushed words but they kept coming to him.

By the time Dean said goodbye, he knew they would probably try going farther out in a hotel. Turning, he was determined to put up a fight but then he saw the look on Dean's face, the one that said there was no way out of this. Sighing deeply, the writer packed his things once more.

~

The mood was definitely sour when they entered their new hotel. They'd driven two towns over and had to go into a vacant, slightly rundown hotel and Castiel was losing his mind.

"I want my bed." He grumbled as he sat on the covers that look like they'd come from the sixties. Dean didn't even comment as he checked over the small room and even smaller bathroom.

"Turn the TV on, watch something." Dean said when he plopped on the bed. Cas watched how the man was comfortable with the bed and wondered how often he slept in rundown places. Then again, it was curious how Dean had slipped into living with another man 24/7 without a comment against it. Cas had never even thought to ask him about it, he'd been so wrapped up in his own problems.

"Why are you a bodyguard?"

Dean turned to stare at Cas, his body sprawled out on the bed. There was nothing to show what the other man was thinking, not that the writer could see anyway. Slowly, Dean looked away with a shrug.

"I'm tough and I like helping people."

"It involves living with random people."

"I don't mind it. I can hold my own." Dean stared at Cas until the writer bowed his head, accepting this as an answer. There was no point in pushing it, and neither man brought it back up the rest of the evening.

It was late in the night when Cas found himself startled awake. In his head, he awoke in his room where his bed was flush against the wall. He rose in the dark, throwing the covers off and stumbling from the bed. In front of him should have been a wall so when he reached out and felt nothing, he stumbled. Both knees hit a bed and the moment he fell, arms shooting out, he realized where his hands would end up. There was no stopping it and they landed on a hard, solid body.

Dean grunted at the contact, Cas' hands having hit a hip and ribs. Cas fumbled and stood, pushing off the other and gaining another grunt. Rustling with the sheets, Castiel unable to see his expression, Dean started to rise.

"What..?" The bodyguard's voice was thick with sleep, groggy.

"I woke up confused, but nothing's wrong." He blinked into the dark of the room, starting to see better.

"What woke you up?"

"I have no idea." He moved to sit back on his bed, face redder than a cherry. He was beyond glad Dean couldn't see, even though he was sitting up and reaching for the lamp. "I think it was just a dream!" He hissed, rolling back under the covers just as the click of the light went off and he saw the room wash with light through the sheets.

"I'm going to go check, then." Dean's voice rose with his body, a soft creak from the bed signaling he was standing. He was barefoot, therefor quiet on the carpet as he moved.

Dean was gone for only maybe five minutes from the room after having scooped out the small space they occupied. He shrugged at Cas who had sat up in the bed, patiently waiting.

"There's nothing that would have--" He was cut off by the sharp sound of an engine revving and suddenly, the glass next to Dean shattered into a million pieces. Dean jumped to the side, barely getting out of the way when a rock passed through the debris. Cas yelped, shooting out of the bed and ducking next to it away from the glass that covered the bed and floor around it.

"Get down!" Dean's voice came as another rock shattered through the second window. Cas leaned over the bed, hands and knees on the floor and saw Dean lying down, covered and surrounded in glass . His leather coat and jeans had saved him from any sever cuts but Cas could see part of his forehead bleeding. "Stay down!" He hissed, waving a hand at Cas.

The writer looked to the window, seeing headlights flash over the broken windows and curtains. He didn't get up, but he didn't back down as the sound of the cars engine rose up high and then faded as it screeched down the road. Slipping back and resting against the side of the bed on his hands and knees, the writer focused on calming his breath. Time seemed to slip slowly by, the sound of their breathing loud in the silence.

"Cas?" Dean's questioning tone, low and curious, rang in the writers' ears. Castiel peeked around the bed again, seeing Dean kneeling within a large area of shattered glass. His hands rested on his knees, green eyes shining bright. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, there's no glass over her, just on the bed." He nodded his head in the direction of the bed top and Dean nodded, glancing over and seeing the chaos in full, mouth thinning to a line.

"I don't have any shoes or anything." He said slowly, eyes looking back at the writer and Cas got what he meant. He was going to need to free the bodyguard. Nodding, Cas stood and gingerly made his way to the bathroom where a trash can sat. Snagging that, he grabbed a towel and took his time scooping up glass. The sizes weren't as small as he previously had thought, at least not all of them.  
Dean said nothing, and Cas didn't push a conversation for the ten or so minutes it took for Cas to clear a path to Dean. The moment Dean was about three fourths clear around himself of glass, he reached forward and grabbed the others' face. Stunned, Cas didn't move or say anything as Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together. With both of Cas' hands occupied with an object, he leaned forward a fraction, kissing back as his eyes slipped closed.

All too soon, Dean pulled back with his hands falling from Castiel's face and Cas shifted a knee forward, bowing his head and pushing their lips back together. When Cas pulled back, Dean smiled softly, touching a thumb to Cas' chin before looking at the man's body.

"No glass on you?" His voice was soft but still thick, deep in his chest. Cas mimicked the smile he was given, handing over the can and towel to which Dean took gladly.  
"Not a shard. But your forehead..."

"I know. It's bleeding worse than it actually is. Don't worry, when enough is cleaned, I'll let you clean it up."

Cas nodded and went to the bathroom to grab another towel. Slowly they both picked up at least half of the mess, clearing a path to the door. Castiel used tissues and water from the bathroom, as well as another towel, to clean off Dean's forehead. There was no need for stitches but Dean promised to pick up band-aids from the front desk if they had any when he went to report the windows.

"I think Gabe would agree," Dean breathed out as he wandered back in, having reported the windows, "that you'll be safer back at home." Tugging a vacuum into the room, he leaned it against the wall as he closed the door, coming over to Cas. He handed three band-aids to the other who took them. Dean sat on the edge of a bed as the writer undid the first wrapping and gently pressed the band-aid to the wound, still bleeding fresh above his right eye.

"It was silly thinking we could run."

"No, not really. It let me know a few things about her."

"Oh yeah? Like how crazy she is?"

"That and the claws she has. She got someone to give you a note in the middle of a crowded area. That takes guts... and charisma on her part."  
"Is she working alone?"

"Probably not."

Cas sighed heavily and dropped next to Dean. The other bed was still sprinkled with glass. They sat in silence a few minutes before Dean pushed up and grabbed the vacuum. He left Cas alone with his thoughts and he pulled his legs up to his chest and stuck the tip of his thumb between his teeth, chewing.

The thought that not only was he being stalked by a woman-or just a female-that he'd signed something for was staggering. The thought that she wasn't working alone took his thoughts away. What possibly had happened to create such a mess? He couldn't, for the life of him, remember anything specific that had happened the last few months aside from the notes starting. No matter how long he thought about it, or which angle he attacked the problem from, his mind couldn't focus on anything.

Except one thing.

Cas stood from the bed and paced a bit, careful not to get in the way of Dean. The carpet was done within the first few steps Cas took, and the bodyguard turned so he could watch the writer pace, eyebrows up to his hair line. After a moment, Dean started on the bed with the vacuum hose. When that was done, the sound cut off and Cas was so far into his own mind he barely noticed Dean leave to return the vacuum.

"It's really late. But the desk clerk said there's another room we can--"

"No." Cas turned to Dean who had snapped him from his thoughts. Blue eyes bright with clarity, he shook his head. "No, I want to go home. We have to call Gabe in the morning after I write out a few things..." His thumb went back to his teeth and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows pulling together.

"If this is about your book--"

"No, not it's about something... just take me home."

Seemingly not willing to fight the issue, Dean nodded and said he'd be back in a few minutes. Cas busied himself making sure all their things were packed neatly. By the time Dean came back, he was ready and they quietly took their things to the car and drove off. Dean said nothing while Cas was staring out the window, mind reeling. He needed paper and he needed to keep the moment in his mind. He more than likely would have snapped at Dean if the man had tried speaking to him.

The moment the car was turned off, Cas was out of the vehicle and at the door, unlocking it.

"Hey!" Dean called, shooting from his seat and barely closing the door as he made his way to Cas. "Stop, I have to go fir--" His words cut off when Cas shoved through the door but didn't make it two feet. His eyes were on the floor and Dean followed the gaze to a pair of high heels sitting on the floor where the shoes were supposed to go. Dean put a rough hand onto Cas' shoulder and the writer willingly went where the hand guided him: just outside the door. There was heavy silence as Dean pulled the gun from his side and made ready to aim, the muzzle towards the floor.

The time seemed to tick in the back of Cas' eyes. Each pound of his heart seemed to take a whole hour. When Dean, empty handed, showed back up, the writer was frazzled and on the edge of his nerves. He was not expecting it to be the bodyguard that came back in his sights and he had to pause himself mid step to the man, arm raised.

Dean paused, eyebrow raised at Cas before he let a smirk fall to his face. "What are you going to do with that?"

"Nothing, shut up." Chuckling, Castiel moved into the house and Dean closed the door, undoing his laces.

"The high heels are the only thing different. I have no idea how she got them there, however." He cleared his throat as Cas turned to him, shoes already off. "I'll... um. I'm going to put a tighter watch on you."

"Okay?"

Dean stood up from putting his boots side by side on the floor, socked toes wiggling against the floor.

"I'm going to camp out in your room." Cas licked his lips, but felt himself nodding. Dean ran a hand against the back of his own neck. "On the floor, but it's just so you don't have to sleep in a strange place again."

"Okay... but I'm wired tonight."

"I understand."

"I need to write."

"I'll be asleep. If you have any problems--"

"You'll be right across the hallway, I'll yell for you." Dean nodded at that and went to snag the blankets and pillows from the folded out couch. He shoved it back into place when it was empty, turning it back into a couch, and hauled the things up the stairs. Cas followed him with a soft smile on his lips, even though he remembered what he needed to write. Maybe it was a good thing, though, that he remembered what may have started this whole problem.

Dean camped out on the floor, demanding Cas leave his office and bedroom door open. Castiel agree and sat down in his chair, knees pulled up and thumb tip between his teeth. Gabe would slaughter him if he knew he'd chewed on it so much the last few days, but at the moment he didn't care. Once he had the thought clearly back in his mind, he put the pencil to the paper and wrote out what had happened.


	6. Bed Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit the ground writing with this one, it wrote itself. Have fun with it~

Gabe came the next day, dressed in a casual suit he knocked on the door and was pleased to see Dean open it rather than Cas. Cas himself had stayed up all night writing. After he'd finished getting the scene out of his head, he'd dove back into his book. Somehow, it had been much easier to do now that he was at home. He'd cooked breakfast for three, knowing Gabe was on his way.

At the table, Cas ate faster than the other two and excused himself to go get what he'd written up in the early hours last night. Without warning, he walked back into the room and both men turned to see him. He paused and knew that expression on Gabe's face. He didn't know Dean's innocent face, but he could guess this is what it looked like. From the stairwell, if they'd been whispering, he wouldn't have been able to hear unless he tried. Now, however, he knew they'd been doing just that.

"If there's anything you have to say, I suppose you could tell me." He noted, staring at Gabe accusingly. The man chuckled, not taking the heat from those words seriously and held out his hand. Cas handed over the four and a half pages of description and the room was quiet as Cas sat in his chair again, watching Gabe read.

The worried line on the mans' forehead became deeper and deeper the more he read and eventually, once he was done, put the papers down and stared at Cas.

"What is this?"

"It's... what I think started all this."

"The woman you described, the way that she came up to you. She's the one you think is following you?"

"Yeah."

"How many times have you met her?"

"Twice."

Dean grabbed the papers and read them. Both men quieted, waiting for Dean to catch up to them both. With a huff, the bodyguard tossed the papers on the table.

"This woman touched you." His eyes moved to Cas who licked his lips. Gabe turned to stare at Cas, eyes wide. "You told me to back off, but now you don't feel that way?"

"No... I feel different obviously." He snatched the papers up and held them to his chest. "Then I didn't have a clear idea of who it was but she's the only one the last few months I've signed anything to."

"There's a chance," Gabe offered, hands held out as if to say he meant no harm, "that this signature the letters mention is years old."

Cas huffed at his publisher. "You really think that? Why would someone like this suddenly get a rock in their shoe about me? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they had trouble getting money? You don't know what's going on in their life. Maybe they stopped taking their meds." Gabe took his plate and pushed it to the middle of the table, the omelette most of the way eaten. Cas felt his ears get red as he licked his lips.

"I didn't think about that, but you have to admit that's a lot of factors it makes more sense--"

"Are you two going to calm down and let me draw a line?" Dean's voice snapped between them and both men shut their mouths with an audible crack. They both, almost at the same time, looked to Dean who had a no-nonsense expression. "Now that I have your attention. Listen here.

"Her name is Meg. I remember that. And she didn't feel right off the spot she's way too friendly with you. She lives in this town." He cleared his throat at Cas' shocked expression. "I looked her up. Last name is Masters and she lives alone. I now the address. It's perfectly plausible that she isn't your stalker, but due to the fact that it was so recent compared to when this started, that's where I'm starting."

Cas nodded, looking to Gabe who was nodding as well. Both men knew they didn't know how to go about this problem. That's why Dean was here in the first place.

"She obviously can reach you wherever you go and you made it clear you didn't want to go to far."

"I prefer fighting at home."

"Yes, so that's what we'll do. Plus, fixing two broken windows at a hotel is more expensive than five here." Dean stated and Cas put his hands over his face.

"Oh, God that had to be horrible."

"Don't worry about it," Gabe assured his writer. "The money came out of my pocket, not yours. It was my idea for you guys to go on the run."

"I'll pay for my own home repairs." Cas said, dragging his hands off his face and sighing. Dean raised a brow but kept his thoughts to himself. Gabe bit his lip, and did the same. There was no fighting it, considering it was his own house and Cas assumed his boss wouldn't mind not paying for it. "I've got more than enough cash to do that, plus I want it done my way."

"Okay," Gabe nodded with a smile. He stayed for the rest of his omelette and to check out the new window as well as look over the notes they'd received since he'd last been caught up on the happenings. Castiel spent some time talking about his book with the man, letting him know he'd gotten some written down and would likely spend more time in the day. Once they'd finished, Dean spoke with him shortly in hushed whispers as the writer went upstairs to do his profession.

From a window, Castiel watched Gabe drive away and knew Dean wouldn't come up and bother him at least until lunch. For the next few hours, he worked on his book. Apparently having been away for a few days and experiencing some adrenaline had cleared up his imagination. Before he knew it, Dean was up and telling him he'd worked straight through lunch and the day, and that dinner would be out soon.

"I made Shepherds Pie." He said from the doorway and Cas leaned back, glancing over his shoulder to look at the other.

"I'll be down after I finish this section." Cas promised and Dean nodded only to slip back out of the doorway and head down the stairs. Losing himself in the writing, Cas completely forgot to go downstairs for diner and about jumped out of his skin when Dean appeared behind him, clearing his throat.

"You didn't come for food."

"I know... I got lost and--"

"Don't worry about it." Dean took a decent sized step backwards, hands behind his back. "Gabe told me to make sure you get sleep tonight. Are you ready to stop?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

Cas pursed his lips together and took in a deep breath. He could stop here, he'd been thinking about pausing anyway. He wasn't hungry, however.

"Sure, I'll get ready for bed. I don't want any food though." Dean nodded, not one to push anything at the writer, to which he was grateful. Standing from the desk and made sure his things were correctly placed on his desk before slipping past Dean and mumbling about how he'd be in the bedroom in ten minutes.

After his shower and brushing his teeth, Cas crawled into bed and Dean chuckled. The sound was fuzzy and Cas tried to say something back, something about how the light was still on, but his mind couldn't form the words.

"I have to do a round outside. Don't jump when I come back in." Dean murmured from the doorway, turning the light off.

Cas was asleep when the sounds came from the hallway and the dark body slipped into the room. The dark silhouette slipped over to the bed on the floor and knelt down, and arm moving some of the blankets around before standing. On bare feet, the shadowed figure moved to the bed and lifted up the covers. Castiel, deep in sleep, shifted towards the other side, where the warmth was. Slipping in, the body pushed up against Cas and wrapped its arms around the writer.

The writer breathed out a sigh, the unusual feelings of a second body next to him stirring him out of sleep. He came to awareness, feeling an arm slung around him and his brain moved sluggishly to Dean.

"Wha...?" His voice was thick as he turned his head, blinking in the dark to try and see the man. "What are you...?"

"Shh," the voice purred as the arm slipped over Cas' bare chest. With a groan, Cas, shifted into the touch, a hand of his own going to those fingers.

"Dean...what?" The words themselves stilled the other, the fingers curling almost angrily. The writer frowned and ran his fingers up the others' wrist. Dean felt strange to him, the wrist thin and the arm less hairy and... He stilled when he hit the elbow, his eyes getting better in the dark and he saw a very curved shoulder in the dark. Moonlight streamed though the blinds over the window and he could see long hair draped over the pillow out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not Dean." The voice, very womanly, hissed into the silence. Cas jerked his hand away and he tried rolling off the bed but the woman jumped and pulled him back, straddling him and grabbing his wrists. Castiel was stronger than her, yes, but he was still somewhat fuzzy and he didn't want to hurt a woman.

"No, you're not," he agreed, wracking his brain for a way out of this. If he called for Dean, the man would come... right? How long ago had he left to check the perimeter? Was he hurt? "What did you do with Dean?"

"Nothing the man didn't deserve." She spat the words, dark hair falling over her shoulder.

"What did you do!" He pushed up his hips, shoving her to the side. With the surprise, her hands slacked and he ripped his hands away. "Where is he?"

"Relax," her voice was mocking as she steadied back, taking in a breath after she'd huffed, landing on her back. She rolled from the bed and stood carefully on the floor, flipping the switch and blinding Cas with the light. He threw a hand up to cover his face and emitted a groan. "He's fine. Probably."

Blinking, he moved his hand from his face and struggled himself out of the bed, staggering to his feet and waving a hand in the woman's general vicinity. As his eyes focused on her and the pain disappeared, his brain caught up with what was going on and what she was saying.

"Meg."

"Hello Castiel." Her drawl, which had been interesting when he'd first met her, now crawled down his spine in the worst way possible. He'd been right about her and now something was definitely wrong. He didn't know how to react in this situation and Dean was somewhere... hopefully still perfectly okay.

"I need to know Dean is okay."

"Why? What's so important about him?" She put her dark eyes on Cas, taking a step forward and hooking her thumbs into her pants. She wore sweats and a tight tank top. The skin that showed was a safe middle between pale white and fairly tan. His mouth went dry as he realized she'd slipped into bed with him wearing sleep clothes, her feet bare.

"He's... a really good friend." His mind whirred to life, wrapping up a story about why Dean was there, if only to calm her down. Maybe, if Dean showed up, he'd run with it. Cas begged in his mind to let the bodyguard show up, even if he didn't role with it.

"Oh, yeah? Is that why you guys are living together?" She took another step forward and he raised his hands in defense.

"He's here to help me with my writing, Meg. I'm making a character based off him." His eyes ran to the bedding on the floor. "See? We're not together. He's sleeping on the floor." She slipped out a laugh, effectively cutting him off. As she took another step forward, he backed up.

"Stop it, Castiel. I know you two went on your little trips together. To the hotels."

"We know, I know. We liked the letters you sent us. Tag is a fun game." Castiel forced himself not to lick his lips, which would have been an obvious nervous habit showing. The smile that spread across her face was half crazed, half joyous.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, but I'm done playing games." Cas didn't like the tone to her voice as she jerked forward, taking the few steps between then and snatched both his wrists in her hands. He pulled in a startled breath and made a face at the physical contact. "Remember that you are mine?"

"I am?" He swallowed with a small smile.

"Yes. Dean won't get in the way of us. Just keep that in mind." She pulled him over to the bed, pulling him close to her and he shivered while one of her hands roamed up his bare chest and over a shoulder.

"You should know I don't like being touched." He offered and her snort as well as her non-believing face gave him no hope.

"You'll love it when I do it. No one else you like. But you like me." She used both hands now and wondered at what point would be okay to manhandle her onto the bed and make a run for it. Firstly, he'd need to know if she had a knife somewhere. She could have hidden something anywhere while he'd been sleeping.

Where the hell was Dean?

"You can touch me, Meg," he allowed, gaining a triumphant smile from her, "if you tell me where Dean is. Okay?" She sighed heavily, angrily and shoved at him, making him stagger back a step.  
"He's not important!" Shoving a hand in her hair, she breathed out like a mad bull. "Don't bring him up!"

"I need to kn--" He was cut off by the sound of something slamming downstairs. Meg spun, hair swirling and hand dropping into a fist at her side. She flipped the switch on the wall as she shot out of the doorway into the darkness of the house. Cas stumbled, grunting as he hit the corner of the bed the moment he plunged into darkness. The only light came from the window and a small haze from the doorway. Fumbling from nearly memory alone, Cas made it to the hallway and down towards the stairs. He didn't know where she went, but knew he didn't want to be here if she came back.

Slipping not-so-quietly down the back stairs, he ended up in the living room, staring at the light in the entryway that bathed half the kitchen in light. The door was wide open, Dean's boots gone. He moved to the kitchen, more adapted to the low light and wincing at the slapping sound of his bare feet to the kitchen floor. He slipped his shoes on, not bothering with tying them, as he went outside into the dark. He thinks maybe he heard the crunch of gravel but when he looked in the direction, he saw nothing but darkness and trees.

A hand touched him and, with a cry, he spun around and tripped over his own feet. Before he could fall down to his butt on the gravel, two strong hands gripped him and he steadied. Dean, breathing heavy, stood with his back to the light of the entryway and Castiel almost was so happy, suddenly, that he couldn't breath.

Dean gently let go of his arms, mindful to not touch him, but ushered him inside. The door closed and Cas turned to the bodyguard, noting that he looked roughed up, new scratches over his arms. The leather coat hung on the coat rack that Cas hadn't noticed earlier.

"You ran through the trees." He noted numbly and Dean nodded.

"There was someone in the woods making a bunch of noise... I followed whoever it was to the road where a car was waiting. I think the person was alone. But by the time I got back here, I saw the light on upstairs..."

"She was here." He said and Dean suddenly got serious, more so than earlier, and looked Cas up and down.

"Did she... Was it Meg?"

"Yeah, she slipped into bed with me." Castiel shivered at the idea and Dean reached forward, touching a hand to Cas' shoulder and the writer flinched.

"Where did she go?" Dean pulled his hand back, face stiff and angry.

"I don't know. When you came into the house, she ran. I headed to the back staircase and by the time I got to the door..." He shrugged and Dean nodded.

"Stay here, I'm going to check the house." He shifted away from Cas and took off his boots, leaving them haphazardly on the floor. Cas busied himself putting the boots in their right places and locking the front door. He wouldn't move from this spot unless danger came or Dean told him otherwise.

Time seemed to crawl as the writer waited but eventually, he heard the soft padding of Dean's feet come through the kitchen, every light in the house on. He flipped the switch to turn the kitchen light out and shook his head at Cas.

"She'd not in here. There's no sign of her but the bedroom is a bit tossed around." He rubbed the back of his neck, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Cas pursed his lips and nodded. The light on the stove that showed the time made him inwardly groan. He'd barely had half hour of sleep.

"Okay... uh. Let's turn the lights off and head to bed." Holding out his hand, he hoped Dean would take it. Slowly, the man did and wandered up the few steps to the entryway. Dean wordlessly went off to turn the lights off on the first floor and Cas wandered upstairs to do the same. When Dean showed up in the bedroom, Cas was already in bed though he was sitting up, having fixed the tousled sheets on the bed and the floor.

"Are you going to be okay to sleep?" Dean pondered, hand hovering over the light switch.

Cas bunched his hand into the covers and stared up at Dean. He wanted desperately for the bodyguard to slip into bed with him, if only for the physical comfort it would bring. Within a split second, he realized he didn't want to sleep just yet. Without a word, he stood up from the bed and went to the bathroom where he had a small first aid kit, most of the stuff used but there was still some Neosporin and band-aids though he figured they weren't needed.

"Sit down." He ordered, coming back to the room and Dean raised a brow but sat on the edge of the bed. He saw the tube in Cas' hands and stood back up, mouth open to protest but Cas shoved him back down with a solid hand to his chest. "No, let me."

Over the next ten minutes, Cas tended to the small, but bloody cuts all over his arms. When those were done, he smiled and found one last one on the bodyguards face. He murmured for the man to hold still and gently took his face in his hands, leaning close and spreading a tiny amount of the tube's contents over that thin, nearly invisible cut.

Neither man said anything as Castiel put the tube away and Dean shifted off the bed and pushed around the sheets on the floor, getting ready for bed. Cas turned off the light, closing the bedroom door and slipping into his bed. After a moment, he rolled so he could see Dean if he angled his head just right.

"You sure you're okay?" His whispered words seemed loud in the room and he saw Dean shift.

"Nothing that won't heal over time. Mostly worried about you."

"She didn't do anything but lie next to me." He watched as Dean shot up in bed.

"What do you mean, lie next to you?"

"She came into the bed and wrapped around me."

"You let her?"

"No, I was asleep I thought..." He paused and licked his lips.

"Thought what?"

"I thought she was you." There was silence while Cas was sure Dean stared at the general area of the bed. His eyes practically saw Dean perfectly now, except the expression on his face.

"You thought I was climbing into bed with you?"

"Yeah." More silence and then Dean stood, the soft sound of rustling as he pulled the blankets off himself. He moved to the bed and stood next to it. Cas shifted away from the edge and Dean grabbed the sheets, slipping in next to the writer. With a few awkward minutes, they both ended on their sides staring at each other.

"Now she can't." Dean whispered, moving a leg and tangling it into Castiel's. The writer smiled into the dark and nodded, resting a hand against Dean's bare chest. Dean ran fingers through Cas' hair and slowly, they both fell asleep.


End file.
